


Brazzaville

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Casablanca (1942)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a Free French garrison in Brazzaville .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brazzaville

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Patrick Phelan

 

 

 

 

As it turned out, 'beautiful' was probably over-stating it.

In fact, he wasn't even sure if 'friendship' was in any way descriptive. After all, when one friend made it necessary for the other friend to suddenly relocate, shouldn't the first friend as least _pretend_ to be sorry?

The trip to Brazzaville was excruciating. Trapped on a train for what seemed like months, Louis thought it very fortunate that Rick had packed his chess board in an easily accessible place. They rationed themselves to two games per day, one in the morning and one at night, after most of the other travellers had gone to sleep. After the first few forays into the subjects of Lisbon, aeroplanes, and past loves were met with monosyllabic responses, Louis learned to keep the conversation light.

Their arrival at noon on a Tuesday was somewhat of an anticlimax. Rooms were procured at the best hotel, and after a long bath, a good shave, and a real meal, Louis was ready to begin his new life as a retired corrupt official. He suspected that Rick had been far fonder of his standing in Casablanca than he'd ever care to admit, and it was rather amusing the way he quickly rebuilt his former life. Within the first two days, he'd found a poorly-run bar and purchased it for a pittance. Two more days while he restocked the bar and cleaned up a bit, and Rick's Café International opened for business, a hastily-painted sign in the window announcing the news.

Sam was the first of the old staff to reappear, showing up one evening looking dusty, tired, and glad to be off the train. Louis just happened to be in the bar that night (as he had since it had opened) and the look on Rick's face made him wonder if Christmas had really come and gone already.

Carl was next, looking older and unaccountably fatter. He took over the place in five minutes flat, ordering the staff around as though he'd the right, and then spending a long time clucking over the books. Rick just looked relieved and poured him a brandy.

Sascha arrived with Yvonne in tow the next week, and Louis wondered at that until he saw the wedding band and the slight protrusion of her stomach under her stylish frock. Rick poured _them_ champagne, and then told Sascha to get back to work. It seemed that nothing changed for long.

Louis was extremely surprised, therefore, when Rick came to him with a proposition.

"You want me to _what_?"

"Run my gambling operation."

"Why Ricky," he said, "I didn't think you trusted me."

Rick turned up one side of his mouth in what passed for a smile. "I don't. But I figure since we both know I don't trust you, we can reach an agreement. I'll give you ten per cent of the take, and anything you can skim without me catching you."

Louis pondered that for a moment. "It seems more than fair," he said finally. "And just to show my deep respect for you, I will vow never to skim more than two per cent additional."

Rick genuinely smiled at that, and poured them both a drink to seal the bargain. Later, Louis wondered if he should have held out for fifteen per cent.

A roulette wheel appeared as if by magic that afternoon, along with decks of cards and poker chips. Louis found a croupier and two dealers waiting at the back door -- it seemed the word had spread about _Monsieur_ Rick -- and hired them on the spot. He put them to work setting up the back room, and that same night they opened to a packed house.

When the last of the customers had been put into their cabs, Louis found himself almost proud at having done a good night's work. It was a rather alien feeling, and he decided to chase it away with a large cognac. He found Rick at the bar, presumably with the same idea.

"Rick, my friend," he said expansively, "I do believe I could grow to like this business."

"You don't miss your shiny uniform and the _privileges_ that came with it? Louis, you never cease to amaze me."

Louis gestured with his glass. "I am sure that with time, I will become as cynical and jaded as you are, my dear Rick. But for now, let me enjoy the illusion."

Rick grunted and downed his drink, then poured another. "Don't knock cynicism. It's what lets me get out of bed every morning."

Louis had no reply for that, but privately thought it a damn shame. Life should have some sort of joy, otherwise why would you bother?

It became a regular pattern for the two of them, drinking together in the quiet after closing. Louis would share tidbits of gossip he'd gleaned during the evening -- who was in town, who had left town (and why), who might be useful in some way -- and Rick would grunt, or nod, and pour another drink. Occasionally they would play backgammon, or chess if they happened to be sober enough. They were evenly matched in skill, although Rick had more determination to win most nights. Louis relied on his luck and it seemed to keep him from disgracing himself too badly.

As lives went, it wasn't half bad. Yvonne's son, when he was born, was named Sascha Richard, which no one thought odd in the least. Carl's oldest grandchild came to work for them after a time, and since she had Carl's head for figures and easy way with the customers, it was soon as if she'd always been there. Louis was actually hurt when Carl warned him that young Sofie was off-limits.

"My dear Carl," he said. "I would as soon cut off my own right arm. After all, we are _family_ , are we not?"

He was completely mystified at the gales of laughter that followed.

 

 

 


End file.
